Red Cross Whiskey and French Cuisine
by EJ3
Summary: A one-shot about Klink and Hogan after a crazy day at Stalag 13. Could be considered AU.


Red Cross Whiskey and French Cuisine

EJ McFall

Klink cursed as the familiar car sped into camp. He'd been woken during the night by RAF bombers flying overhead and had spent most of the day listening to the sounds of approaching battle. His prisoners were getting more unruly as it became apparent that the Allies were drawing near. He'd had no appetite for lunch and even less appetite for a visit from Hochstetter.

"Klink." The gestapo major barked before he was even out of the driver's seat. "Bring me Hogan. Now."

Klink sighed. It was no surprise. "May I ask why, Major? Hogan hasn't even attempted to escape in weeks and…"

"Now, Klink!"

"Schultz." Klink gestured towards Barracks Two. Schultz nodded grudgingly and headed across the compound.

"Cuff him!"

"Major, there's no reason for this." Klink pointed towards the eastern sky, which had been smoke-filled since the previous evening's bombing raid. "It'll all be over soon."

"Klink, you traitor!" Hochstetter came nose-to-nose with Klink. "The Third Reich will not be defeated. We will fight in the streets, to the last man, woman and child. We will not abandon our fuhrer as long as one German still has breath. And we will take as many of the Allied dogs with us as we possibly can."

Klink's stomach tightened. He was a loyal German, but he was also an honorable man and a reasonable one. Arming children to fight door-to-door against invading Russian soldiers was sheer madness. But he had seen the Hitler youth patrolling the streets of Berlin on his last visit to General Burkhalter's headquarters and the sight had chilled his blood. He held his breath as Schultz escorted Hogan, hands cuffed behind his back, towards them. He could feel the insanity closing in around them.

"Morning, Major." Hogan's tone lacked its normal cockiness. "Social visit?"

"On your knees." Hochstetter pointed his revolver at Hogan's head.

"It's that day already, huh?" Hogan exhaled loudly as he dropped to his knees. "Don't suppose you'd give me a chance to say good-bye to my men?"

"Hogan, what are you….?" Klink suddenly glimpsed what Hogan had already seen in Hochstetter's eyes. Sheer hatred. And complete madness. "Major, you can't…"

"Major, no!" Schultz stepped forward, causing Hochstetter to briefly train his gun on the man.

The interruption gave Hogan a chance to glance behind him. "Schultz, my men….Keep them back. Please, Schultz. It's too late in the war for a riot."

Klink followed Hogan's gaze. He wasn't surprised to see the prisoners –especially Hogan's aides – closing in. "Get them in the barracks, Schultz. Quickly."

Schultz was torn between Hogan and Klink.

"Go on, Schultz." Hogan managed to find a smile. "That's an order."

"Jawohl." Schultz called to his men, who had also been drawing near.

"Now, Colonel Hogan." Hochstetter glared at the kneeling man. "We end this game of ours once and for all."

Hogan lifted his head to meet the gestapo agent's eyes. "Before I go, there's something I've always wanted to tell you. You're one crazy mother—"

A shot rang out, exploding Hochstetter's head and causing his falling body to knock Hogan to the ground.

"Colonel!" Sgt. Kinchloe pushed his way through the guards and dragged Hochstetter's body away from Hogan "Are you…Did he…?"

"I think I'm ok." Hogan struggled to his knees. "What happened?"

"Is that your blood or the bastard's?" Cpl. Newkirk was quickly beside Hogan, unzipping his bomber jacket and searching for wounds.

"I think it's all his. But who….?" Hogan gasped. "Holy shit!"

Klink followed Hogan's gaze to the revolver in his own hand. He didn't even remember drawing it, much less firing it.

"Kommandant?" Hogan stared at the German in disbelief while Newkirk worked on removing his handcuffs. "Why?"

"I…" Klink stared at the weapon. "There are rules…even in war…"

"Mon Colonel!" Cpl. LeBeau shoved his way through the confused Germans to hug his commander. "You're alive!

"Yes, but I'm covered with blood." Hogan laughed weakly. "And now you are too."

"Which could be a problem." Kinchloe stood up. "Kommandant, are you expecting any more visitors?"

"No, I don't think so." Klink slowly returned his pistol to its holster.

"Then, we're standing in the middle of a crime scene." Kinchloe divided his attention between the two colonels. "We have to get it cleaned up before any of Hochstetter's friends come looking for him."

"Right. We need to get rid of the car. And the body. " Hogan ran his hand through his hair, scowled at the blood that stained it. "What's left of the body."

"I can help with that." Sgt. Carter had been trying to get past Schultz, finally made it through to his friends. "If you need something gotten rid of, boy…sir…I can take care of that."

"Yes, you can." Hogan tried to wipe his hands clean enough to pat the young man's shoulder, finally gave up and just nodded his approval. "You and Newkirk. With your approval, Kommandant?"

"What?" Klink was only barely following the conversation. "Fine, Hogan. Do what you must. I doubt it will make any difference, but try anyway."

"You and LeBeau should get cleaned up, sir." Kinchloe pointed towards the showers. "Schultz and I can take care of things out here."

"We can?" Schultz caught Klink's nod. "Ja, we can."

"Ok, Kinch, mind the store." Hogan frowned at his clothes. "I think your job might be easier than mine."

Kinchloe chuckled, then sobered. "Make sure that's all Hochstetter's blood, Louie."

"Oui, I will."

"Hey, I'm standing right here." Hogan protested. "I can check myself for bullet wounds."

"Oui, you can." LeBeau smiled innocently as he started for the showers. "But we cannot trust you to pass that information on."

Klink ignored the ensuing discussion –partly in English, partly in French – that trailed off as Hogan and LeBeau left the area. Newkirk and Carter headed back to their barracks while Schultz and Kinchloe discussed clean-up strategy. Klink left the blood and the smell of death and retreated into his office.

Klink was sitting at his desk, staring numbly at his shaking hands, when Hogan let himself in.

"Kommandant?" Hogan stood inside the doorway. "I didn't get a chance to thank you."

"I was merely doing my duty, protecting my prisoners."

"A little more than that, I think." Hogan helped himself to Klink's bottle of schnapps.

Klink folded his hands on his lap, desperately tried to keep the other man from seeing his weakness.

"It's a little different, isn't it?" Hogan set a glass of schnapps on the desk before Klink. "Shooting someone up close and personal?"

"You forget that I fought in the last war." Klink downed his drink in one gulp.

"Sure, but killing from a plane and killing someone on the ground…" Hogan shrugged. "It's not the same."

"No, it's not."

"But the shaking hands, the upset stomach – it all goes away after a good night's sleep."

"Hogan, all I did was shoot the man. You should be the one who's upset. You nearly died."

"And I promptly threw up as soon as I got out of sight of you Krauts." Hogan grinned. "And I came here to raid your schnapps bottle just as soon as I could get away from LeBeau."

Klink had to smile at that. Hogan _had_ come over wearing just his uniform pants and shirt, despite the chill of the day. And tiny ice crystals had formed in his wet hair because he hadn't taken the time to dry it. Perhaps –for once –he and Hogan did have something in common.

"My boys got the car and the body out of camp." Hogan glanced out the window. "And Kinch and Schultz have an international work detail out there covering up the blood. It's nice to see your men and mine playing together so well."

"Ja, we have a common enemy now. The gestapo."

"I think we'll be ok." Hogan took his customary chair and helped himself to a cigar. "As long as no one shows up until tomorrow."

Klink considered the odds. "Do you think Hochstetter told anyone that he was coming over here?"

"I doubt it. He would have brought a driver if it was an official visit. I think he just looked up at the burning sky, realized the shit was about to hit the fan, and decided it was a good day for a little murder-suicide."

Klink couldn't help smiling. Hogan had reached for the pockets of his missing jacket, scowled as he realized he was coat-less, and had resorted to a not-very-subtle search of the desk. Klink took his lighter from his pocket and tossed it to him. Hogan nodded his thanks and lit his stolen cigar. "You think Hochstetter was intending to kill himself after he shot you?"

"Sure. It's standard procedure for nuts like him."

"Then you really were expecting him?"

Hogan shrugged. "Sooner or later. I had been hoping for later."

"You might have warned me. I could have…" Klink broke off at the sound of an explosion. "What…?"

Hogan grinned as he blew an elaborate smoke-ring. "Sounds like a staff car blowing up."

"I see." Klink nodded, knowing that asking anything more would lead them into the land of Hogan's improbable explanations.

"Excuse me, Colonel." Kinchloe knocked on the open door. "Just wanted to let you know everything's cleaned up out here."

"Thanks, Kinch. I appreciate it."

Klink watched the subtle communication between the two Americans, though he had seen it any number of times before. Kinchloe's silent question: 'Do you need anything? Are you ok in here?' Hogan's cocky grin that answered, 'Don't worry. I can handle the Krauts.' Klink couldn't help feeling envious as Kinchloe nodded and left the office. Klink had never been that close to his own men and there were days when he was tempted to trade Schultz for Kinchloe. Except that he knew that Hogan would never part with his second-in-command.

Once upon a time Klink had wondered why a POW even needed an adjutant, much less one as steadfast and efficient as Kinchloe. But as time went by and the explosions and disappearances that surrounded Hogan multiplied, Klink had stopped asking questions for which there could be no safe answers. Somewhere along the line he just came to accept the fact that Stalag 13 was a magnet for chaos but that everything always worked out in the end, compliments –Klink was sure –of Hogan. It was like living in a badly written Shakespearean comedy, but there were much worse fates. And at least he _was_ still living.

"Kommandant? You ok?"

Klink returned his attention to his resident Puck, who had probably been taking advantage of his daydreaming to read the papers on the desk. "I was just thinking about Shakespeare. Did you ever see any of his plays?"

"Only on dates. Didn't care much for the comedies. All those mistaken identities and men dressing as women…" Hogan shook his head. "The tragedies aren't too bad, especially MacBeth and Hamlet. Though if I were Hamlet, I would have arranged for my uncle to have a fatal accident in the first act and saved everyone a lot of trouble."

"I'm sure you would have. Very American."

Hogan opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again. No doubt stopping himself from offering his view on how Hitler would have handled Hamlet's problem. Not for the first time, Klink wished that he could have met Hogan away from the fog of war. Of course, they would never have traveled in the same circles in peace time….

"Begging your pardon, sir…" Newkirk appeared at the door. "Our little problem has been taken care of."

"Thanks, Newkirk. Good job."

Klink couldn't help noticing that Newkirk was a little short of breath. Perhaps he had been dodging patrols outside the fence while following Hogan's orders? Of course, Klink's men seemed to be working with Hogan's at the moment, so Newkirk wouldn't need to run from them…. Another question that it was best not to ask, just as long as the damning evidence was gone from the camp. They could return to being enemies tomorrow. For the moment, the common good demanded a truce and a ban on troubling thoughts.

Newkirk left the office, but Klink was willing to bet a month's pay that the Englander wasn't heading back to his barracks. Instead, he'd be patrolling the compound, watching for the arrival of any gestapo agents. Guarding Hogan's back more faithfully than any of Klink's guards would ever protect him. Klink was certain that if Hogan had been killed earlier, the camp would currently be awash with blood -thanks in no small part to Newkirk.

"Someday, Hogan, you must tell me how you broke that one. The previous Senior POW couldn't do anything with him."

"Who? Newkirk?" Hogan shook his head. "You don't break a wild mustang, Kommandant. You just leave a trail of apples and let it follow you home."

"I see." Another one of Hogan's explanations that made absolutely no sense.

"Colonel Hogan? You in here?"

"Come on in, Carter."

Klink politely refrained from informing Hogan whose office they were sitting in.

"Kinch sent me over with your jacket and cap." Carter held the items out to Hogan. "Louie got them all clean again."

"Thanks." Hogan slipped into his jacket. "Wow, it's warm inside."

"Louie hung it by the fireplace so it'd dry faster."

"What fireplace?" Klink demanded.

"My boys are inventive, Kommandant. Tell them to dry a jacket quick and they'll find a way to do it, even in the middle of a prison camp."

"Also, sir, Schultz let Louie into the Kommandant's quarters…"

"What?"

Carter ignored Klink's interruption. "So he's making you two dinner. You know, to celebrate that you didn't get…uh…."

"Killed?" Hogan supplied the word with a smile.

"Uh, yeah, so if you want to go over there… Louie says it's going to be really good."

"What do you think, Kommandant?" Hogan was on his feet. "A little French cuisine to finish off a day of murder and mayhem?"

"Hogan…" Klink laughed at the absurdity of it all. "Since your man has already broken into my quarters…"

"With your man's help."

"…then I think we should go enjoy ourselves."

"Great." Hogan paused. "Hey, Kommandant, when's the last time you got really hammered?"

"Hammered?"

"Falling down drunk."

"Oh." Klink had to think about it. "I suppose it was during one of my leaves. During the last war. And you?"

"December 6, 1941." Hogan adopted a conspiratorial tone. "Do you think Kinch and Schultz could handle the war for one night while we get drunk as non-coms? I promise not to ask you about your secrets if you promise not to ask me about mine."

"Hogan, I…" Klink stared at his still shaking hands. "Ja, I think you have a good idea."

"Great. Carter, go get that whiskey bottle that came in my last Red Cross package."

"Your Red…Oh, right sir. The whiskey you got from the Red Cross. Coming right up."

"Thanks." Hogan put his arm around the sergeant's shoulders and walked him to the door. "And tell Kinch I'm taking the night off so it'll be up to him to greet Patton if he shows up."

"Right, sir. I'll tell him." Carter was off on his mission.

Klink followed Hogan to the porch, not surprised to find Newkirk waiting at the bottom of the steps. Hogan broke off for a moment to speak to the corporal in private, then returned.

"I trust everything has gone as planned with the….cover up."

Hogan nodded. "We should be fine."

"Until next time."

"Are you expecting more homicidal gestapo agents at your doorstep?"

"Ja, as long as you're here."

Hogan laughed. "You're hurting my feelings, Kommandant. I'm just a simple…"

"…cowed prisoner waiting out the war. Ja. I have heard it before."

"And you're just a loyal German officer, following orders from Berlin." Hogan's customary smirk vanished. "If you were, I wouldn't be here right now. Thank you."

Klink was shocked at the brief moment of sincerity, but before he could say anything his cocky Senior POW returned. Hogan burst into the Kommandant's quarters as though they were his own, giving orders to LeBeau and Schultz alike. They were soon sitting at the table while Schultz poured some of the captured French wine Klink had hidden away for a special occasion. No doubt on Hogan's orders.

"Your Red Cross whiskey, sir." Kinchloe set the bottle on the table, leaned in to whisper to his colonel, then slipped into the kitchen.

"He said he'd be my wingman so I can drink." Hogan answered, though Klink hadn't inquired. "You wanted to know. It was written all over your face."

"Of course." Klink paused while LeBeau served them. "So I'll be getting no drunken secrets from you tonight."

"Afraid not. Sorry."

"It's just as well. I don't think I want to know everything that's in your head. Though…"

"Yes?"

"Hogan…there is one favor I'd like to ask of you. After your Patton arrives and before I'm taken to an Allied POW camp, there's one thing I'd like to see. Your tunnel."

Klink forced himself not to laugh as he watched Hogan slowly cut a piece of chicken while he considered his reply. "I'll tell you what, Kommandant. _If_ Patton comes and_ if_ they plan on shipping you out and _if_ I have a tunnel under construction at the time….Well, I'll _think_ about showing it to you."

"Thank you, Hogan. That's a perfectly useless promise."

Hogan shrugged. "Good chow, though."

"Ja. Very good…chow." Klink raised his glass in salute. "Peace, Colonel. May we both live to see it."

"I'll drink to that." Hogan raised his glass. "Frieden, Oberst. May the crazies let us live long enough to enjoy it."


End file.
